The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1887-04-23
THE MOUNTAIN GRAVE.


For many years, says the Voice, Mrs.
Helen Hunt Jackson-"H. H."-has been
one of the most esteemed of American
writer's. For a number OF years previous
to her death-which occurred a few
months ago-her energies had been de-
voted to indicating the rights of the In
dians, and her gifted pen has been one of
the most potent causes of the awakening
of the nations conscience upon this sub
ject. She was accustomed, during her res
idence in Colorado Springs, to ascend to
the summit of what is now called Mount
jackson, and there in the solitude, high
above the world and its uproar, she wrote
the thrilling chapters of Ramona" There
she has been buried, and Mrs. E. V. Will
son tells OF her visit to the place:
A delightful drive Of five miles brought
MS to the entrance of Cheyenne Canon;
there we alighted, as the road had been
rendered impossible by last Winters
storms. We soon found ourselves, as it
seemed, in the heart of the mountains.
On every side rose the dark granite walls,
towering hundreds of feet above our
heads. The road was barely wide enough
to have allowed carriage to pass; along
one side ran little mountain stream. Oh,
those mountain streams, how beautiful
they arel Slipping through ravines, roar
ing through gorges laundering over prec-
lpices, shimmering in pools, sparkling
In sunlight, cleaning II shade, singing,
whispering, laughing, charming the eye,
enhancing the ear. We never tired of
admiring them. This one ran close to
the base of the mountain, and, like the
others, was deliciouely cool and refresh
ing to the taste. Not sunbeam reached
US. We walked as in the religious light"
of some grand old cathedral. The air
was pure and exhilarating. At every
step new beauties caught our eyes. Sud
denly, before us rose the lofty wall as if
to stop further progress; but 10! turning
sharp corner, we beheld the first of the
seven falls, glittering and foaming; it fell
from its rocky height "a thing of beauty
and Joy forever"
eff you can climb those stairs" said
our guide, ''to the top of the falls, and
then go still on up quarter of a mile,
you will reach the summit of Mount Jack.
son."
We did as directed, and after climbing,
it appeared to us mile, tie way was SO
steep and the footing SO insecure, we
found ourselves on small plateau en-
bracing, perhaps, an acre of level ground.
There, in the shade of half dozen small
trees, was lonely mound. With bowed
heads We stood beside it. Above us on
either side and behind us lowered the
mountains; before us, bathed in sunlight,
lay the valley, so far below that the city
of Colorado Springs looked like minia-
ture fairy town instead of a dwelling
place for ordinary mortals. How still
how still No song of bird; not even the
hum OF an insect disturbed the solemn 81.
lence.
Our voices hushed, we looked upward.
Heaven seemed nearer than earth. The
white clouds floating in the blue sky; the
dark mountain sides, with here and there
a cedar tree springing from cleft in the
rock; the little mound at our feet, formed
a picture never to be forgotten.
We gathered few wild howers-spe-
cies of yarrow of different colors-end
with few white stones placed them rev.
erently at the head of the grave, which is
as yet without tablet.
One said: "How could she have wish
ed to lie in this lonely spot?" There was
no answer made to the question. Each
member of the party had his or her own
thought; as for me, l felt it a fitting place
for the authorizes of ramona"